


Strikhedonia

by bicroft



Series: SidGeno Tumblr Prompts [18]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 00:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13647954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bicroft/pseuds/bicroft
Summary: Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”





	Strikhedonia

**Author's Note:**

> VICTORY FIC!!!!! Sid scored his 400th, so take this from me. Asked for by a tumblr anon, in response to a prompt meme.

* * *

 

_Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”_

* * *

The Sidney Crosby Hockey Plan, as it was detailed in bright blue marker on a piece of unlined printer paper from when Sid was seven was as followed:

  1. Practice a lot
  2. Be good at hockey
  3. Play in the NHL
  4. Win the Stanley Cup



It was a simple plan, but Sid had always been a simple kind of guy; he didn’t need anything fancy. Just work hard, be the best, win.

With that said, though, Sid also didn’t really like changing plans. Once he had his mind set on something, there was very little that could happen to make him change it. So, as minimalistic as the Sidney Crosby Hockey Plan was, it stuck with him. He was going to work hard, be the best, and not let anything get in his way.

“Not let anything get in his way”, for a while, just mean staying back and practicing even more when everyone else he knew was watching TV or playing video games, and that wasn’t so bad, because Sid liked hockey more than TV and video games anyway. And then, it meant doing that when everyone else he knew was getting girlfriends or hanging out with friends, and that was okay, because Sid had enough friends in his team (well. Three, at most, at any given time) and he didn’t much care for girls.

And then, when he got into the league, it meant forgetting that he didn’t much care for girls, and not thinking about what he might care for instead, because that was _dangerously_ close to “ruin your career” territory, and that would be getting in the way of steps number three and four of the Sidney Crosby Hockey Plan.

For the most part, that was easy, too. If he kept busy, he didn’t think about it- and, when he was thinking about it, when he felt himself slipping steadily towards feelings that would throw a wrench into the rest of the Plan, that just meant he had to make himself busier. Which usually meant more practice, more tape, more conditioning, which helped to push him more towards working on steps one and two. All in all, it was good system.

It worked for a year into the league, and then a six-foot-something wrench threw himself bodily into the cogs of Sid’s well-oiled machine and fucked the whole thing up.

Sid had never let himself put much thought into what he might like in a guy, so he didn’t really know if it was _all_ tall, fit, dark-haired, goofy Russian guys that did it for him, or just this one in particular. Either way, it became very clear very quickly that Sid liked Geno _a lot_ , and liking Geno a lot was very much not accounted for in the plan.

It wasn’t like he could avoid Geno like he avoided thinking about everything else, though; Geno was at practice, he was in the locker room, in the gym, flopping down next to Sid on the couch in the team’s lounge when he was pouring over tape on his computer- he was _everywhere_ , and Sid really didn’t want to tell him to stop. It took a while for Geno to warm up to the team in the first place, and Sid liked hanging out with him and talking to him, even most of their hanging out was just him babbling in the way he always did and Geno nodding along and probably only getting half of what Sid was saying. He was a good friend, and Sid knew the value of having a good friend on the team to have his back.

In the end, what it boiled down to wasn’t a change in plan, but just an addendum, a fifth step to his four-step system. Practice a lot, be good at hockey, play in the NHL, win Stanley Cup- and, don’t kiss Geno. That still kept it easy, and, it didn’t limit him as much. He could _think_ about kissing Geno, sometimes, when they were alone and laughing, trying to figure out how to work Sid’s stupid new grill, or when they were standing on the ice after Geno scored a fucking _gorgeous_ goal, panting and grinning at each other, just so long as he didn’t do anything about it.

 _That_ worked for another three years. Sid was _really_ good at compartmentalizing and not thinking about things when it was more convenient not to- but, _of course_ , it didn’t last, because even if Sid was the luckiest person in the world when it came to hockey, his luck in just about every other area of his life was in the fucking shitter nine times out of ten.

First it was the concussion, and then it was Geno’s knee- and then, it was both of them on the couch together, miserable and bitchy and only talking every so often. He wasn’t super sure why Geno was coming over so often when neither of them seemed to really be good company in their current hockey-less states, but he also wasn’t going to complain. He _hated_ being alone, and he was also never going to be able to say no to having Geno sitting maybe just a little too close to him on the couch.

They’re sitting quietly, for now, the television playing some kind of late-night/early-morning infomercial; they’ve been up since after the fucking _awful_ game the Pens played a few hours before, both of them seething and guilty and knowing without saying anything that they both were letting people down just as much as their bodies were letting them down every second they weren’t on the ice again.

This fucking _sucked_.

The sting of the loss had started to wear off as they sat there, though, thighs pressed against each other, Geno’s head slowly but steadily dipping closer and closer to Sid’s shoulder as he fell asleep, the both of them drifting and shifting closer to each other was the night went on. The flickering lights of the TV lit up Geno’s face like a fading mood, and absolutely unbidden, Sid thought: _I could kiss him_.

And, he could. He could, if there weren’t rules- if there wasn’t a _plan_ that he had to stick to.

 _But,_ he thought again when Geno yawned, stretching a bit and bumping his shoulder against Sid’s as he adjusted, sending sparks down Sid’s spine. _I could._

Geno turned to face him, probably feeling Sid’s gaze on him, and opened his mouth to say something- probably something about taking a picture or asking if there was something on his face, but the moment seemed to slow down to bullet time as he did, and Sid had the very clear though of ‘ _fuck it_ ’ as he leaned in and did the damn deed.

The kiss was a white spot- white hot, white-out because he was so, so fucking nervous he couldn’t even think about it- but the feeling when he pulled back and knew he’d just tossed at least the bottom part of the Sidney Crosby Hockey Plan out the window was a clear, warm curl of melding horror and pleasure.

Geno’s eyes were wide when he pulled back, and Sid opened his mouth to say something- probably to apologize, or make a joke about him having something on his face to break the sudden tension in the air, but before he could, Geno leaned forwards and kissed _him_ , and Sid’s mind whited out again, and anything that wasn’t kissing Geno back became unthinkable.

They only pulled away again when Sid leaned into Geno a little bit too much and he made a noise of protest that sent Sid almost flying back. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “Sorry, are you- is your leg okay?”

“Fine,” Geno said, sounding a little put out. “Be better when it’s fix, and you’re can sit in lap and kiss me forever.”

That was- more forward that Sid thought he was going to be. “You- that something you’d be into?”

“Not say if I’m not into, Sid,” Geno sighed, and Sid couldn’t do anything more than grin before he leaned over, and was kissing him again.

They stayed there, smiling and kissing, and talking just a little, until the sun came up and they had to move to the bed, arranging themselves carefully so that Sid could get to his bucket if need be, and Geno’s knee was where it needed to be. Before they both nodded off, Sid made note to change up the Sidney Crosby Hockey Plan a little when he got up.

  1. Practice a lot
  2. Be good at hockey
  3. Play in the NHL
  4. Win the Stanley Cup
  5. Kiss Geno _a lot_



 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @sidsknees


End file.
